classmates, and when she asks why, the teacher says it is only to “bring her out.”
When she reaches junior high school, she notices others, boys and girls. They sit in their desks, heads lowered, keeping their arms tightly to their sides. She thinks she knows how they feel, and makes a point to talk to them.
They are afraid to talk back, and she understands this well; but they are also afraid to be quiet. They stutter. They apologize. Then they apologize for apologizing.
The absurdity strikes her. Why should you ever apologize for not talking, if there is nothing that you want to say?
She thinks of all the big talkers she has known. Many had nothing to say, and were grating. And there were the bullies, who used their many words to hurt and humiliate; and the liars. Was lying better than being quiet? Why should you have to say aloud everything you were thinking?
In her epiphany, she rebels. She embraces the word others have said with scorn and rejects the idea that she should “overcome” anything. She now envisions her shyness in a different way: as a shivering, misunderstood puppy seeking shelter from the icy rain; from now on, she is determined to defend it. She gives it a new name: Fido.
“C’mere, snuggy wuggy,” she thinks. “I’ll protect you from the big, bad extroverts.”
The name Fido seems better, because it is unclear what the word “shy” really means. Is it being quiet? Is it thinking about what you say before you say it? Does it mean, as many believe, hating yourself?
She decides that she will remain “shy;” To reject the term would mean conceding that it is something bad. But she will never hate herself. She will be shy, but she will not be apologetically shy. She will invent a new kind.
The season of militant shyness begins.
I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you overcome your shyness yet?
Not yet. Have you overcome your shortness?
She does not say this thought aloud, and she must admit, this is a drawback to being shy. Fido is high maintenance sometimes.
She quickly discovers that there are limits to how militant shyness can be. The strongest expression of in-your-face shyness goes something like this: “I am shy and damn it, if anyone tries to tell me not to be, or says anything about it at all, I am going to tell them…nothing, and how will they like that? And if anyone tries to change me, I swear, I will reach into my bedside table drawer and pull out my crossword puzzle book and silently gnaw on my pencil until the eraser is just a tattered, rubbery blob of debris. Then they’ll be sorry! Ya-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Well, she had never said there wouldn’t be paradoxes.
The changes occur within. She no longer accepts what she has been told – about anything. She begins to think and trust her own observations. The world becomes a more interesting place. She studies hard. She discovers writing as a way to explore the hidden depths beneath spoken words.
She focuses on what she loves: words with their cadences and rhythms, the books that pull her into another place and time. Academic subjects she had always thought were boring become fascinating, once she gives them a chance.
It happens gradually, and she almost does not notice it at first.
Until one autumn day when she is taking a walk. A solitary leaf catches the wind and drifts down, slowly rocking back and forth. As she watches she has a startling thought:
I am happy.
All of the struggle. But all it takes for a moment of happiness is a leaf.
Not every day is perfect, and Fido is inconvenient sometimes. But everything has changed. If she had only known that she did not have to change who she was, she could have focused on what she loved; she would have been happier.
Sometimes, she hears parents talking about their children in worried tones: they are too quiet, they think too much before they act; something, they are sure, is wrong with them; it must change.
Make them stop, she thinks. Tell them that badgering their kids and forcing them to be “normal” is hurting them and making everything worse.
Tell them, Fido.
She imagines Fido stirring and stretching. He is a quiet dog. Maybe someday, he seems to say. A high wind whistles outside, but inside it is warm and still. In her imagination, Fido closes his eyes.
Someday.
About L.E. Henderson and Her Books
I am a fantasy and science fiction author living in Ocala Florida. I have the imagination of a ten year old, which is why I write fantasy novels, but I have the knowledge of an adult who loves to read, which allows me to write science fiction.
My inner ten year old and I have written two novels, numerous short stories, and a lot of blog posts. My book of short stories called Becoming the Story represents my first foray into science fiction, but I still enjoy the infinite freedom of fantasy. Recently I have published a second book of short stories called Remembering the Future. This time most of the stories are science fiction.
My first fantasy novel, Thief of Hades, is based on the Greek myth of the underworld ferryman Charon. Charon is an unsung hero in Greek mythology, but to his credit, a moon of Pluto got named after him. If he was important enough to be a moon, I thought he should have his own novel.
My soon-to-be-released novel is a psychological fantasy about a troubled 11 year old boy who is drawn into another world in a search for the ghost of his younger brother.
In addition to my novels, I have also written an e-book on rediscovering creativity in writing called A Trail of Crumbs to Creative Freedom.
Other than The Ghosts of Chimera, I will be releasing two more short story collections this year, plus a new self-published novel titled Paw inspired by the game Skyrim.
As for my “real life,” I moved to Ocala, Florida from South Carolina in 2013, and have been absorbing the environment as inspiration for my fiction. I am married and I have a cat with a soft belly and tufted ears who rules my life but, little does she know, a mutiny is coming soon.
L.E. Henderson Online
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